


Layover

by chemicaldefect, ThornyHedge



Category: Pacific Rim (2013) RPF, The Almighty Johnsons RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF, True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicaldefect/pseuds/chemicaldefect, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rob Kazinsky has packed his bags and is leaving Wellington. At the airport, he meets an adorable little blond at the bar who’s nervous about his new job and more than a little tipsy. They get a room and Rob decides to take the next flight home in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layover

**Author's Note:**

> Dean O'Gorman written by ChemicalDefect
> 
> Rob Kazinsky written by ThornyHedge
> 
> Because "The Hobbit" fandom needs more good-guy Rob. :)

Rob’s heart was heavy as he pulled his navy blue carry-on bag through the late-night crowd at Wellington International Airport. He couldn’t get the sad look on Aidan Turner’s face out of his mind. Telling Aidan he was leaving the set had been hard. Though they’d never completely developed a close fraternal relationship, they still liked one another well enough. He felt like he was betraying his own family. 

Telling Peter had been even more difficult. He made up a lame excuse about his health. But, truth be told, the job just hadn’t felt right to him. Other offers had come along—offers that truly inspired him. He made a hard choice. He hoped it was a wise one. He knew _The Hobbit_ was destined for greatness.

Perpetually on time, he had a few hours to kill before his flight. The airport had two bars, and he headed to the nearest, called the Cook Strait bar. The place had only two customers. One, an older women, obviously corporate, with a briefcase, drank some wine and read a book at a table. The other patron, a blond man—a bit older than Rob, but much more petite than his six feet, was nursing a beer and talking to the bartender. 

“—and, no lie, three days later, I’m here and ready to start work,” he was saying to her as Rob pulled up and sat two stools away. He had a noticeably Kiwi accent, Rob observed, and adorable dimples. He looked like an athlete… maybe an advertising sales rep, Rob speculated.

“Can I get an Epic Armageddon?” he asked the bartender, nodding a hello to the other guy.

The bartender moved to fill the newcomer’s order, and Dean paused in the middle of his story to offer a welcoming smile. Engrossed in her work, the bartender moved away, and they all sank back into a comfortable silence. Dean fidgeted in his stool, sipping at his beer and picking at the label while his leg bounced up and down with nervous energy.

Occasionally his eyes would flick over to the other man sitting down the way, shyly admiring his charming smile and mussed hair. Subtly, he hoped, he allowed his gaze to rove over the other man’s form, taking in the long lines of muscle visible through his thin t-shirt. He wasn’t one for chatting up blokes in bars, but he’d just arrived in town and every nerve ending was thrumming in anticipation for his first day of filming tomorrow. Still giddy from the excitement of landing the role of a lifetime— _The Hobbit_ , he still couldn’t believe it—he decided it couldn’t hurt to make a new friend. 

“Just getting in, or heading out?” he asked with a friendly smile, nodding toward the carryon bag on the floor.

“Leaving town,” Rob told him, then took a sip of his beer, taking note of the other man’s deep blue eyes.. “I’m heading back home to London. New job. I have a little time to kill before my flight so I thought I’d have a few. You?”

“Congrats, best of luck,” Dean tipped his glass in salute, quelling his disappointment that the handsome stranger would be leaving soon. “I’m actually starting a new job myself, just got into town. Getting up the courage to finally step out that door into the unknown.” His lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile.

“Congrats to you too, my friend. Wellington’s not scary at all; I like it here,” Rob pushed back his stool and pulled out the one next to Dean. “Do you mind if I—?” he let the question hang in the air, the question mark punctuated by muzak from the speakers.

“Be my guest, please,” Dean tried to suppress the shudder that ran through him when the other man’s arm brushed against his as he got in the seat. He threw back the rest of his beer and gestured for another. “Oh, Wellington’s great, for sure,” he picked up from where they’d left off, “but…”

Dean sighed, not sure how to put his feelings into words, and doubly not sure how much he was allowed to say about the part without getting canned before he even got on set. “This job’s a big deal, and I’m just hoping I don’t fuck it up, is all.” The bartender set a new bottle in front of him and he immediately attacked the label with restless fingers.

“Well,” Rob chuckled, “if you attack it with the same zeal as you’re attacking that label, I’m sure your boss will be impressed. When do you start? The job, I mean?” He pulled a nearby bowl of pretzels closer to them, and pulled out a handful.

Barking out a laugh, Dean dragged his nail over the label one last time before bringing the bottle to his lips for a swig.

“Tomorrow—jumping in head first.” He released a shaky sigh. “Sorry, mate, I could go on and on. How about you? Looking forward to whatever’s waiting for you in London?”

“I have a tiny bit of downtime, then I’m headed to America. I’ll be in California for about six months. But first, I’ll spend some time with my family and friends,” he told the other man. “My name, by the way,” he said, extending his hand, “it’s Rob.” 

His green eyes twinkled and he smiled an adorable half smile.

It took all of Dean’s self-restraint not to smack himself in the forehead; staring into those sparkling green eyes helped take some of the edge off. He took Rob’s hand and swallowed thickly at the way those long fingers took his in a firm grip.

“God, right, yes, nice to meet you Rob,” he smirked and huffed out an exasperated laugh. “I’m Dean. I promise I’m not usually this much of an egg.” Rob smiled brilliantly back at him and Dean felt a blush rising in his cheeks. He cleared his throat and fumbled for his beer, fishing for a way to change the subject. “California, eh? Sounds great.”

“Hey, I’m a big fan of eggs,” Rob tried to break tension. “Scrambled, fried… over easy,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Listen, I don’t expect you to be eloquent. You’re nervous about the new position, and it’s obvious you’ve had a few beers already. If anything, I should be struggling to catch up.” He finished his bottle and signaled the bartender to bring another. “And another for my friend,” he told her.

“I have quite the head start, could be a dangerous game, man,” Dean arched an eyebrow and accepted the new drink, taking a long pull from the bottle and forcing himself to meet the other man’s gaze with a playful glint in his eyes. He’s starting to feel a bit tipsy, looser and more at ease, the tingling beneath his skin less about nerves and more about the way Rob was looking at him now.

“You know,” Rob leaned back observationally, “you’re a very good looking man. Fit, too. You’re an athlete, right? I mean, your face. It seems very… familiar to me for some reason.”

Dean sputtered around his drink, coughing a bit as he laughed. “Ah, you’re too kind. Unless we’re talking backyard cricket, sports aren’t so much my thing. Though I wouldn’t be surprised to hear you’re a professional athlete of some kind.” His blue eyes danced with mirth as they raked over Rob’s body once again, no longer aiming for subtle. “You may have seen me on TV around these parts, I’m an actor.”

“Ahhhh,” Rob nodded in satisfaction. “Of course.” He wasn’t about to tell Dean that he was an actor as well. After all, what were the chances? Then, of course, he’d have to spin his sad tale of woe about leaving the set and what could have been the role of a lifetime. He’d look like a colossal loser. 

Instead, he decided, he wanted something completely different. Rob was never the type to label himself sexually. He’d try anything… once. Dean smelled amazing and his nervous energy was both adorable and intoxicating. He found his eyes riveted to Dean’s dimples and his plump lips as they closed around the neck of his beer.

“You intrigue me, Dean,” he told him. “I’d like to buy you a shot.” 

“Hey, I thought you were the one trying to catch up with me? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk.” Dean wobbled a bit on his barstool and threw a hand out to catch himself. “Well, _drunker_.”

“Whoa,” Rob put a strong hand in the middle of Dean’s back to steady him, “careful, tiger. Perhaps the shot is a bad idea. Don’t actors have to be at work super early? The last thing you want is to show up hungover, am I right?”

Dean unconsciously leaned into the pressure of that hand. “If only my other mates had half your sense. I unfortunately have plenty of practice with hangovers on set.” As if to illustrate his point, he finished off the rest of his beer in three long swallows and plopped it back down onto the counter. The alcohol and excitement running in his veins were making him a bit reckless. He leaned in closer to Rob, whose hand he happily noticed was still on his back. “One shot shouldn’t do too much damage.”

“I wouldn’t want to be you tomorrow morning, mate,” Rob chuckled. “As the younger and clearly more sensible person as this bar, I’m afraid the sad duty falls to me to tell you that you are cut off. Flagged.”

Dean’s face suddenly took on a woebegone expression. “Ah, but,” Rob held up a finger, “I would never do such a horrible thing without suggesting an alternate activity.”

Narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion, a small grin still playing at the corners of his lips, Dean studied Rob carefully. “Oh, and what do you have in mind?”

“Air hockey, of course,” Rob smiled. “I passed an arcade near the restrooms. You game?” he fished in his wallet for a handful of bills.

“Only if you promise to go easy on me; it’s been a long while.” Dean stood up from the stool and stretched, arching his back and allowing his t-shirt to ride up a bit on his abdomen.

Rob felt a burning desire to touch that exposed swatch of flesh. With his tongue.

His eyes rose to Dean’s face and he was met with the gaze of someone who totally realized he was being scoped out. Rob shrugged helplessly. “C’mon,” he gave a wave to the bartender, letting her know to keep the change. “I see victory in my future.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that pride comes before a fall?” Dean hastily threw a few bills on the counter as well and made to follow Rob out of the bar, reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. He let his hand linger there. “Lead the way,” he grinned, dimples showing.

In minutes they’d arrived at the nearly deserted—and fairly pathetic—arcade. Rob slid a bill into a nearby change machine and brought a handful of tokens towards the air hockey machine. 

“Okay,” he said, over the plinking sound of the coins dropping. “What say we sweeten the game a bit? First person to score a goal gets to ask something of the other? A question, a task, anything. What say you, Dean?”

“I say, bring it on,” he grabbed one of the pushers and claimed one end of the table. “Though I think I’m at a distinct disadvantage.” He frowned as his clumsy feet stumbled a bit over a fold in the carpet.

“I haven’t played air hockey since I was a teenager,” Rob admitted. His own giant hand dwarfed the white plastic object in his hand. The puck didn’t slide easily either. It was clear this air hockey table wasn’t very well maintained. He gave the puck an experimental tap. “You are going down,” he smiled, knocking it in Dean’s direction.

Dean’s eyes sluggishly tracked the progress of the puck towards him and he jerked his wrist in its general direction, glancing just off the edge of it and sending it ricocheting wildly across the table. He may have been just a bit tipsier than he initially thought.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Rob chuckled at Dean’s expense. “It’s a little dark in here, and I think the table might be crooked.” He pushed the puck back towards Dean, a bit more forcefully this time.

“Ha, yeah, sure.” Dean chuckled at Rob’s efforts to reassure him. The puck was moving much more quickly this time, and he fumbled a bit with the pusher, trying to correct his position. He overcorrected a bit, managing somehow to knock the puck into his own goal in the process. He dropped his head with an exaggerated groan, looking up at Rob through his eyelashes. “Remember what I said, about going easy? That’s not gonna happen, is it…”

“Aw now, c’mon. You scored a goal against yourself,” Rob burst out laughing. “I don’t even have a judge’s ruling on that one. Unless you want to penalize yourself,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Rob’s laughter was contagious and Dean joined in. “Not sure I could dole out a fair punishment. I would definitely abuse the power.” He bit his lip and leaned against the edge of the table. “How about I defer to your excellent judgment? What’ll it be?”

“Well, if you insist,” Rob came around the table to Dean’s end. “I’m thinking something… simple, but daring.” He slipped one arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him closer until their hips were flush. One finger slipped up beneath Dean’s t-shirt to brush the warm flesh of his back.

“Mmm,” Rob bit his lip as he studied Dean’s surprised, lustful expression. “Is this okay?”

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. "Yeah, I think I can live with this." His hands came up to rest on Rob's biceps, fingers curling around the firm muscle.

Raising his free hand to cup Dean’s face and trace the curve of one cheekbone with his thumb, he lowered his mouth gently but firmly over Dean’s. The kiss tasted of beer and salt from the pretzels they’d been eating, and Dean’s lips were even softer than they appeared. 

Rob pulled away with a gasp. “Consider yourself… castigated,” he managed, picking up his pusher. 

He watched with mounting concern as the smaller man returned to the other side of the table, swaying more than a little. “Hey, listen… Dean?” he asked, “Do you have a room somewhere? You look like you should be lying down. Sitting at the very least.”

Dean grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself, as dizzy from the kiss as from the alcohol he’d consumed. Lying down maybe wasn’t a terrible idea. He smirked at Rob, tracing his fingers over the edge of the table as he made his way back toward him.

“Hmmm, my hotel is nearby, I suppose I _could_ go lie down,” he looked up at the taller man through his lashes, biting his lip coyly. “It kind of depends.”

“Pretty soon it won’t be an option, I’m guessing, by the state of you,” Rob chuckled. “On what would it depend?” he prowled around the side of the table towards Dean, leaning in against him and steadying him with a hand mid-back. “I can always catch a flight tomorrow,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine at the feeling of Rob’s breath ghosting across the shell of his ear. He folded his hands over Rob’s sharp hipbones and pulled him in closer. He nuzzled into Rob's temple and murmured against his skin, “Then what are we waiting for?”

“I’ll call us a cab,” Rob’s hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans and extracted his cell phone. Hopefully you can direct him once he arrives.” Rob eased Dean into a seated position on the edge of the table and made a quick phone call. “Ah, lucky us,” he turned to Dean. There’s a line of cabs out front, apparently. We can have our pick.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean smiled brightly. He rested his hands on Rob’s shoulders and wiggled clumsily off of the table. He sidled past him, dragging a hand across his stomach, emboldened by the alcohol sluggishly pumping through his veins and Rob’s clear interest in him. He swayed his hips in a way he hoped was sexy as he walked toward the door (only absently worried it made him look like a git).

Rob almost felt guilty taking advantage of Dean’s tipsy state. _Almost._

“Do you have any luggage, mate?” he asked, guiding Dean towards the front of the airport.

“I actually already had it sent on to the hotel when I decided to start drinking,” Dean chuckled, flushing a bit in embarrassment as he glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Rob was following him. “If I’m known for anything it’s my forward planning.” While he wasn’t looking, his feet caught on a bump in the carpet and he stumbled forward a few steps, cursing under his breath.

“All this, and brains too,” Rob chuckled, catching on the strap of Dean’s carry on bag and keeping him upright. “Ah, here we go,” he waved for a taxi and the first in line shot forward to pick the pair up. “Where to then, Dean?” he asked, as they slid into the back seat.

Dean rattled off the address to the cabbie and settled back in the seat, twiddling his fingers on his knees. He was more amped up than nervous now; it had been awhile since he’d hooked up with anybody, and it seemed like good luck for his time in Wellington that he’d met a bloke before he’d even left the airport. He noticed Rob’s hand sitting on the seat between them, and swallowing around the dry lump in his throat, he rested his hand on top of it, lacing their fingers together.

Rob squeezed back gently. “I don’t want you thinking I just run around willy-nilly picking up strange men at airports,” Rob told him. “I just felt—I dunno— _drawn_ to you, I suppose. I have no idea why, really.” He reconsidered. “I mean, shit, that’s not what I mean. You’re gorgeous, Dean. Let me make that clear,” he leaned over and lay a gentle kiss to Dean’s temple. “I just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of lothario.” 

“It honestly wouldn’t bother me if you were,” Dean laughed, laying his head on Rob’s shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. He pressed a few sloppy kisses there. “This is new for me too,” he admitted quietly, pulling back to meet his eyes with a reassuring smile, rubbing his thumb over Rob’s knuckles.

“Well then,” Rob lay a hand on his thigh, “what say we just go back to your room and see what unfolds? If it’s to be sleep… at least we’ll be sleeping next to someone extremely good looking.”

The cab driver just shook his head, chuckled, and kept driving.

\- - - - -

They held hands in a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride. In less than ten minutes, they’d arrived at Dean’s hotel. Feeling like he needed to pick up the slack for the rest of the evening, Dean insisted on paying the cabbie, throwing a wad of cash at the driver and not worrying about the change. He barked out a laugh when Rob held the door open for him and gestured with a bow and a raised eyebrow. He tried not to slur too badly when retrieving his key from the check-in desk, but from the way the receptionist bit back a smile, he felt like he might not have been entirely successful.

When the elevator doors closed, Dean edged closer to Rob, wrapping an arm around his waist and hooking a thumb through one of his belt loops.

“I see your boss spared no expense putting you up here,” Rob commented. “It’s five star,” he added, curling a hand in Dean’s hair, tilting the older man’s head to his whim and slotting their lips together. He came up for air when the elevator opened on the fifteenth floor. “I can’t wait to check out the amenities,” he picked up Dean’s carry-on bag and led them down the hallway.

Dean’s head was reeling, lips still tingling, and it took him a few seconds to rush after Rob out of the elevator. He grabbed onto the strap of his bag when he caught up, swinging Rob around and pulling him down for another quick, hard kiss before edging past him to his door with a heavy-lidded grin.

Rob’s eyes tracked Dean’s perfect little ass as he slipped into the bathroom. _My god,_ he thought to himself. _How the fuck did we get here?_ He sat down on the edge of the king sized bed after checking his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. His lips were swollen from kissing Dean. He rather liked it.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, he appeared ready to say something. Rob, instead, pounced, rolling him onto the bed beneath him. “Now, where were we?”

“Well, we could go to sleep, or…” Dean arched his back so that they were pressed together from belly to thigh, rolling his hips a bit so that Rob could feel his hardness. He raised an eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Rob chuckled. “Sleeping is the opposite of what is going to happen, I think.” Rob’s hand ventured up under Dean’s t-shirt, over his warm, surprisingly furry stomach. “Mmm,” he observed, “nice. I like.” He slid down Dean’s body, pushing the shirt up towards his armpits to gain access to the warm patch of flesh, and proceeded to give Dean a hickey right above his navel.

“Haaa – Rob,” Dean gasped, sinking his fingers into Rob’s short hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. He leaned up far enough to tug his shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly off the side of the bed. He tugged petulantly at Rob’s shirt, unable to reach the hem from this angle. “Your turn, less clothes.”

Rob was exceptionally proud of his body. He made no secret of it. In fact, one of the main reasons he’d decided to leave the cast of _The Hobbit_ was because of all the constrictive and heavy clothing. The _True Blood_ role, if he were lucky enough to be chosen for it—and he had been informed it was in the bag—allowed him to be naked, on screen. It wasn’t a tough choice, really.

“As you wish, darlin’,” Rob got to his knees and slipped his green t-shirt over his head in a confident gesture. He allowed Dean a moment to check him out, before lowering his warm torso onto Dean’s. “Better?”

“Oh my god,” Dean breathed, running his hands appreciatively over the shifting muscles in Rob’s back. “Where the hell did you come from?” he mumbled, mouthing at Rob’s neck and rocking his hips up into him.

“The airport,” Rob silenced Dean with another long, wet kiss, slipping his thick thigh between Dean’s legs as he did so.

Dean’s laugh choked in his throat as he undulated against Rob’s muscled thigh. He let his hands slide down the back of Rob’s pants, cupping the firm globes of Rob’s ass and hauling him closer. “I think there are still too many clothes, yeah?”

“Technicalities,” Rob shrugged it off. “We’ll get there. Are you okay with me fucking you, Dean?” the younger man asked, locking eyes with his bed mate.

“Fuuuck, yes,” Dean pulled Rob into a hard kiss to show his enthusiasm. He hitched a leg up around Rob’s waist so that the younger man could get better leverage for thrusting against him. “There should be lube and condoms in my bag,” he felt teeth scrape over his throat and lost his train of thought for a second. “If…if you want me to go, oh haaa,” the sentence broke off into a moan.

Rob grinned, having clearly found an erogenous zone. “I have a tendency to get a little… _rough_ sometimes, Dean. I won’t hurt you or anything, of course. But something tells me you’re not really into gentle either, are you?” Rob’s giant palm covered Dean’s crotch rubbing suggestively. “I’ll work you open until you’re begging. And then I’ll make you beg some more.”

“You can hurt me a little, if you want,” Dean breathed, waggling his eyebrows. He ran his hands down Rob’s chest, nails tweaking Rob’s nipples and scratching through his happy trail before sliding over the bulge in Rob’s trousers, fingers ghosting over it teasingly. “If I start begging now, will you take your pants off?”

“You needn’t beg for that, Dean,” Rob got to his feet and unzipped his jeans, shoving both them and his boxers to the floor. “They were getting far too constricting anyway.” His green eyes sparkled and he leaned in to unzip Dean’s jeans as well. “Let’s see if that ass is as adorable naked as it is in a pair pants, shall we?”

An involuntary blush spread from Dean’s cheeks down his chest, and he smiled shyly. He lifted his hips and wiggled a bit to help Rob pull his jeans down and off, hooking his thumbs in his briefs and pushing them down as well. His erection rested against his stomach, a pearly drop of precum already beading at the head. He looked at the ceiling to avoid meeting Rob’s eyes scanning over his body. “Like what you see?” he asked nervously.

Rob let out an involuntarily growl at the sight. “Oh yeah,” he confirmed, and crawled onto the bed, immediately taking Dean’s cock into his mouth. The salty taste exploded across his tongue as he French kissed the tip, massaging Dean’s balls with one hand as they drew up tight to his body. 

He pulled off with a wet plop and gasped, “I sure hope you’re not planning on falling asleep, Dean.” 

As if to punctuate this, he took advantage of Dean’s peaceful state to flip him over onto his stomach, easily drawing him up onto his knees. “Mmm,” Rob nuzzled into the crack of Dean’s ass and tentatively licked a stripe over his very exposed hole. “I’ve always liked the taste of Kiwi.” 

He began lavishing the region with licks and pokes from his tongue, until Dean was writhing beneath his hands. Only then did he actually thrust his tongue inside.

Dean collapsed down to his elbows at the first lave of Rob’s tongue over his hole, panting into the sheets and unconsciously rolling his hips back into the attentions of Rob’s mouth. He groaned loudly, chuckling brokenly at Rob’s pun. He snuck his hand down to give a few firm tugs to his cock, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

“Unh unh, darlin’,” Rob pulled the naughty hand away. “I want both those hands up on the pillow, please.” He gave Dean’s right ass cheek a resounding slap. “You have a fantastic ass, Dean. It’s the stuff of legends.” He wrapped his hands around Dean’s thighs and continued with his tongue fucking. 

Dean’s fingers twisted in the fabric of the pillowcase and he bit ruthlessly into his lower lip to keep from making a truly embarrassing noise. It shouldn’t turn him on so much that Rob could practically wrap his hands almost entirely around his thighs. 

“Rob, please, I need more — ah,” his plea ended on a gasp when Rob’s teeth grazed his rim. 

Rob chuckled darkly. “Calm down there, princess. We’ll get you there, mark my words,” he promised, slipping a finger easily inside of Dean, crooking it just _so_ and smiling when Dean keened and bucked up into it. “You just let me know when you’re ready.”

" _Fuck_ , Rob," Dean panted, too far gone to be embarrassed by the hitching whines escaping from his throat. He rolled his hips wantonly back onto Rob's finger when it brushed over his prostate, choking on a moan." I can take another, p-please," he barely managed to stutter out.

"Oh, lover," Rob grinned. "You'll take more than another before I'm done with you. That ass is begging for more... and more...." he slipped a second finger in alongside the first, smiling at how Dean shuddered when both brushed over, then rested on, his prostate. "God, you're gorgeous," he breathed. "Hard as a diamond for you, Dean."

"Haaa — Rob, please, I want to feel it, show me how hard you are," Dean begged. He wasn't usually so wanton but his head was spinning, a combination of lust and the alcohol, and he needed Rob inside of him soon. He spread his legs a wider and arched his back to get closer, putting his ass even more on display.

"And to think I nearly passed you by in that little airport bar, lost in my own thoughts," Rob caressed one of the offered orbs lovingly. "Oh, how I would have regretted that." He withdrew his fingers and reached for the lube and condom he'd pulled from Dean’s travel bag. Moments later, his slick curved cock nudged its way into Dean's winking entrance. He went slowly, giving the petite blond the chance to adjust to him.

The air punched out of Dean's lungs in a rush at the feel of Rob splitting him wide. He took deep breaths through his nose and tried to relax. Collapsing down to his elbows he rubbed his hot face against the cool sheets. The change in angle sent and electric jolt through his gut and he moaned incoherently, rolling his hips back to take Rob in all the way.

"You are _incredible,_ darling," Rob told him, caressing his flank and undulating sinuously. "So fucking beautiful. This is the best Farewell to Wellington present a bloke could ask for." He began to set up a rhythm, scraping the head of his cock over Dean's hot spot on every third swipe or so. Meanwhile, his left hand reached around and gave Dean's neglected balls a squeeze.

Dean oozed precum, staining the duvet beneath him, at the combined feeling of Rob's thick length nailing his prostate and a hot palm rubbing and squeezing his balls. "Glad — haaa — glad to be of service," he managed to slur out between moans, a chuckle choking off into a gasp when a particularly well-aimed thrust made him see stars. He contracted his internal muscles around the cock inside of him to show his appreciation, his own flushed prick swaying heavily beneath him with their movements. Dean raised up on his hands and arched his back to better meet Rob's thrusts, wordlessly urging Rob to go faster, harder.

Rob admired the sweat gleaming off the hot, tight little body he was pumping into, now meeting him thrust for thrust. If only someone cute, smart and earnest, like Dean, had been his “Hobbit” cast mate… now _that_ might have been something worth sticking around for.

Steadying himself with a hand on Dean’s shoulder, he settled into a rough rhythm, angling just so and feeding off Dean’s needy whimpers and cries of pleasure. It wasn’t long before the blond beneath him came undone, clamping down tight on Rob’s dick and pushing him over the edge as well.

Everything went white and a harsh yell that sounded a lot like Dean's own voice echoed in his ears. When he came back down to earth he was collapsed on bed trying to catch his breath, Rob sprawled, panting, over his back. It would become uncomfortable soon—his come cooling beneath him making a mess of his stomach, Rob softening inside of him—but he was content for now, eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

"Well this was one hell of a welcome to the city. You should be on the tourism board," Dean mumbled with a hoarse laugh.

Rob chuckled. “I was. There’s a vacancy now,” he slipped carefully but quickly out and off of Dean, squeezing his ass cheek affectionately. “I’d say you’d make a perfect replacement, though. Your resume is,” he nipped at Dean’s neck, “quite impressive.”

He fell onto his back next to Dean and lit a cigarette, offering the pack to Dean, who declined. “So, what time do you have to be at work?” he asked the older man.

"Mmm, far too early." Dean propped himself up on one elbow at Rob's side; he let his other hand come to rest on Rob's chest, toying with the fine hairs there. He couldn't believe that this gorgeous, young man had missed a flight just to take him to bed. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need, though. When are you leaving?"

Rob inhaled deeply from his cigarette and exhaled a long curl of smoke, “I don’t have to be anywhere officially for six weeks, darling,” he told Dean. “But I know if I stay here I’ll only want to ravish you day and night. That can hardly be productive, now can it?” He lay the cigarette aside in a glass ash tray and rolled Dean over onto his back, kissing him deeply. “I don’t want to make you late for your first day. Good first impressions, and all that,” he added. “What say we get a few hours sleep? I’ll see you off in the morning with a little breakfast.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Dean laughed and sluggishly lifted a hand to card his fingers through Rob's short hair. "Mmmmm, sounds perfect." His eyelids grew heavy and he fought against the satisfied, intoxicated haze threatening to pull him under. "I'm really glad I met you."

“Right back at you, Dean,” Rob ran his fingers through the smattering of hair on Dean’s chest and stole just one more kiss from those sinfully lush lips before crushing out his cigarette and turning off the lights.

Morning came far too quickly. Dean had set the alarm for 5:30 and its laserish tones cut through both their alcohol-addled brains—Dean’s slightly more so.

“Hope you aren’t regretting me in the morning light, love,” Rob smiled lazily from his side of the bed. “Shower’s all yours. I’m in no hurry.”

Dean buried his face back into the pillow with a long groan. A dull pain throbbed in his temples and behind his eyeballs, and the warmth radiating from the naked body beside him was too comfortable to abandon.

"The only way I'm getting out of this bed is if you're coming with me," Dean mumbled. He turned his head to the side and tried to shoot Rob a seductive smirk, but with his eyes half scrunched shut against the early dawn light he suspected he looked more like a massive dork. Rob's amused grin and raised eyebrows confirmed this.

Reluctantly sitting up he stretched out his aching muscles, pausing on the way out of bed to loosely circle Rob's wrist in his fingers.

"What do you say? Join me, help me conserve water?"

“I’m afraid if I join you in there, I’ll only want to ravage you further, and that would be quite counter-productive, my friend,” Rob lay a possessive hand on Dean’s ass through the covers.

“I will, however,” he offered, “get you some aspirin and water. Take the edge off and let me send you off to work with a blowjob to go?” He looked at the alarm clock. “Where on earth do you work that you have to be in so early?”

It almost made Rob miss getting into his Fili make-up. _Almost._ He got up and fetched three small white tablets for the adorable Kiwi, holding them at arm’s length next to the bed so Dean was forced to get up. “I won’t be responsible for you mucking up your first day on the new job,” Rob told him. “You need to shine, darling.”

He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed, but Dean saw the sense in Rob's words. 

"No, you're right, it's my first day on set." Grumbling under his breath he managed to twist out from under the covers and padded across the room to where Rob was standing. Fishing the pills out of his hand he stood on his tiptoes to press a light kiss to Rob's cheek.

"Back in a minute, and I'm holding you to that blowjob," Dean teased lightly. He moved around the tall Brit, headed for the bathroom. Pausing and feeling inexplicably bold, he swatted Rob lightly on the ass on his way past. "I hope you'll at least let me return the favor."

“Depends how fast you can shower, love,” Rob said. He felt an inexplicable twinge of sadness. After this morning, they’d probably never see one another again. A damn shame.

Rob took a cursory sink bath while waiting for Dean to finish, but the clock on the nightstand was working against them.

Dean tried to take the fastest shower of his life while still making himself presentable enough for his first day on the biggest production of his career. It was painfully difficult to ignore the half-hard erection bobbing between his legs, but he somehow managed it. He turned the water off and fumbled the towel off the rack, hastily drying himself as he met Rob's eyes in the mirror.

"What time is it?" He tried to ask nonchalantly, but his voice came out in a frantic rush.

Rob appraised his glistening chest and adorable little ass. “Far too late for what I’d truly like to do to you, lovely,” he cupped Dean’s left butt cheek in one hand. “I’ve called a cab. It’ll be here in ten minutes. Don’t get dressed. Sit on the bed. You need to relax.”

When Dean complied, Rob knelt between his thighs and immediately drew Dean’s shaft into his mouth, relentlessly working Dean in a quick-and-dirty manner until he shot his load. 

“There now,” Rob smiled, chasing what he’d swallowed with a glass of water. “Now you’ll be more relaxed once you arrive at work.” He handed Dean his pants.

Dean smiled gratefully. He took the pants and grabbed Rob's wrist in a gentle hold and tugged him in close for a lingering kiss. He pulled back and glanced over Rob's shoulder, frowning.

"Looks like I'm down to five minutes." He offered an apologetic half-smile and ran his fingers through Rob's mussed hair. "It's been incredible, meeting you. This was one hell of a way to start my time in Wellington."

“They’re going to love you,” Rob assured him. “Whoever they are. You’re destined for big things, Dean.” Rob wasn’t the type to rashly dish out such drivel, but something drove him to say it. Maybe it the way Dean’s plump lower lip perpetually pouted, or the perfectly tousled curls. Or his fucking amazing accent.

Rob just had a feeling Dean was going to make his mark.

“I almost— _almost_ —wish I didn’t have that job waiting for me in the States… just so I could stay here with you, love.”

Pink bloomed on Dean's cheeks and he ducked his head at the compliment.

"That job is lucky to have you," he leaned in for one last kiss just as the phone rang. The cab had arrived; Dean felt a confusing combination of anticipation and loss. He rubbed his nose gently along the column of Rob's neck, inhaling deeply, before releasing the embrace.

"Until the next airport bar?" One corner of his mouth quirked in a hopeful smile.

Rob handed him a piece of paper. “It’s my e-mail address,” he explained. “Drop me a line tonight. Let me know how that first day of work goes, all right?” He cupped Dean’s cheek once more before nudging him out the door. “Now, off with you.”

\- - - - - 

Dean plopped heavily into the makeup chair and closed his eyes. He hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself on the first day by dozing off while all the braids and prosthetics were affixed to his head; he was exhausted by the previous night's activities, but in a pleasant, hazy sort of way. A small smile played at the corner of his lips at the memory and he opened his eyes, smile immediately freezing in place as he met Rob's in the mirror.

Well, not exactly _in_ the mirror, more like _on_ it. Pictures of Rob were pinned in each of the corners, along the sides; some of them with Aidan and Rob together, arms slung around each other's shoulders, and others in a thick, blond wig, a braided mustache above those kissable lips...

_No, it couldn't be...what were the odds?_

"Hey there, you must be Dean!" Michele, Fili's makeup artist, made him nearly jump out of his skin. She looked puzzled at the reaction, then saw where his eyes had been focused. Smiling reassuringly, she clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No worries, dear; we loved Rob, but we're excited to have you on the team. Your picture will be up there in no time! Shall we get started..."

"Rob?" Dean cut her off, quickly clearing his voice when it came out in an alarmed squeak. "I mean, um, Rob was Fili before...?" He trailed off awkwardly, mind still having a hard time processing this strange coincidence.

"Yes, but don't you worry, I love all my Filis equally," Michele reassured him again, mistaking the source of his alarm. "Now, how about we get started in here? We’ve designed a wig for you a bit sleeker than Rob’s, with more braids. I think you’ll like it.”

Dean nodded automatically, still stunned. Mentally, he made a note to e-mail Rob as soon as he got home. Had he known? That didn't seem likely. Maybe it was just a sign that this was meant to be. He relaxed a bit in the chair, the notion bringing him some newfound confidence.

\- - - - - 

Rob wound up taking a lunchtime flight to London. He settled back into his first class lounger with a yawn. Last night—and this morning’s—activities had been exhausting, and wonderful. He smiled, thinking of Dean’s lush lips… and that ass.

He dozed.

The in-flight movie started and woke him briefly. It began with a brief entertainment news short from the BBC, which he tuned out, until he heard the title “The Hobbit” mentioned.

 _The departure of Robert Kazinsky from the set of_ The Hobbit _left some pretty big boots to fill,_ the chipper female announcer said, _but today the actor taking over the coveted role of Fili arrived at Wellington, New Zealand’s Wingnut Studios._

Rob sat forward with interest to get a look at the person Peter had chosen to replace him. He heard the name before the gorgeous face of the man he’d spent the night with flashed on the screen.

 _Dean O’Gorman, known most recently for his role in_ The Almighty Johnsons _is Kazinsky’s replacement._

On screen, a smiling, tired-looking Dean— _his_ Dean—waved to photographers as he stepped from the taxi that had dropped him off at the studio that morning. Rob chuckled, face settling into a lop-sided grin. This was perfect.

Absolutely brilliant.

\- - - - - 

A few hours later, once Dean had his wig and prosthetics firmly in place, he made his way over to wardrobe. Charlotte was waiting for him, a few garments slung over one arm and juggling a large, bulky muscle suit in her arms. She was a bit more brusque than Michele, clearly harried. Shoving the muscle suit into his arms, she began rattling off instructions, "Dean, hello! Please go try this on. It’s Rob's old muscle suit; I have a feeling it will be a bit long on you, but we can make any adjustments as needed."

Charlotte herded him along towards a dressing area in the back with a bit more space and held up a pair of trousers. "After that, we'll see about getting you into his pants..."

Dean nearly choked on his laughter. If only she knew; he was way ahead of her.

THE END 


End file.
